The Mad Artist
by Meandor711
Summary: Painting, drawing, making art, that's all I do all day. I'm a special person, some would say I'm just odd. I laugh when people say that, cause I have a letter from an institution proving that I'm mad. Just insane, just a bit mad


An: Not something I have written before, it has my own weird humor in it and I just wanted to write this after I read a fanfiction named: The Fallen Portrait. I really recommend it, it Is the best one I've ever read personally :)  
And just so you know, this will be weird, I think

The Mad Artist

'' No, that won't work Steve, maybe if I ad one slight brush of red rig… nononononono! That won't work you stupid son of a bitch. Talking about bitches I saw the most beautiful dog tod… NO! Think Steve THINK you need to work with your painting.'' He stared at his painting and tried to form an idea, the picture was of him, with both his wrist slit and bleeding from his nose, in the back it was written in black: what if god doesn't care. For any common person this would look both beautiful and disturbing. Beautiful because of how realistic the painting was, it looked like a real person, disturbing cause of the act of suicide the character performed. For Steve on the other hand, it was the ultimate peace, it was freedom. '' Something missing my friend. What? Something natural….. '' He snapped his fingers and thanked himself. He ran into the kitchen with great speed and laughing manically. Some seconds late he came back with a knife. He opened his palm and cut it as deep as he could. Then he started to throw is blood onto the picture while smiling like a lunatic. Then he used his thumb and smeared the blood over the picture, making it look more dramatic and chaotic. He stepped back and looked at his masterpiece '' Sometimes I wish someone would come to me personally and tell me im a genius! You're a genius. I know I'm silly just stop you. '' he blushed slightly at the comment and waved it off, this man was literally his own best friend.

No one could blame him for being this way. It was a defense mechanism he created as a child. After witnessing his own parents being stabbed to death by a burglar and then having to shoot the man in the head, then coming into a foster family whom hated him and brutally beat him every day. Never being accepted in any social gathering nor ever wanted to attend one. Everyone needs a friend thought, and he made one, in his head, he's finally talking to someone like himself, cause in reality he's talking to himself. He never notices anymore, it had become as if another person lived inside his head, and he really loved it. Made him think less, thinking is depressing.

He scanned this picture and logged into an art website, logging into his profile, Count Deadlife, or as his follows said, count awesome. On this webpage he was the king, he had the most followers, almost everyone loved his art. Art was his life, he lived of it, and he lived in luxury. One of this centaury's most successful artists, and he didn't seem to lose inspiration for one second. He kept being artistic and he posted the scans of some of this paintings or drawings into this website, right here he was a god. The young adult posted the picture and got up to paint another picture, but he realiced he wanted to draw instead '' Yes, drawing is good. What will you draw my friend? I don't know, but I think I have an idea. '' He took a pencil and started to draw, he drew four angels around a person kneeling with a smile on his lips, and after half an hour he was done drawing, and he named the picture: the four saints. Steve smiled an evil grin '' and now to use my special paint. I thought you were going to draw? You know what I mean, come on you're just like me! '' he exclaimed in happiness and got his special paint and started to paint over his original drawing, you couldn't a change at all, only Steve could see what he did and he loved it, his grin got wider and wider as I thought how sarcastic is title became, he was indeed a mad genius. He heard is doorbell and sighed, he had to be social.

Steve walked to the door and started to unlock the door '' Just wait a sec! '' and he thought to himself '' Why did you make me get so many locks? Cause I was scared. Why? '' the voice didn't answer and Steve opened the door and smiled at a auburn haired female in front of him '' Hello miss. '

'' Hello. '' Her voice was cheerful and it made Steve how she could sound so happy when the world was going to shit? '' I can't blame her I guess. Nope you can you lunatic! Oh shush you. '' he thought before answering the auburn girl '' How may I help you miss? '' She pointed at the door directly across the small hallway '' I moved into that apartment and I wanted to say hello to my closest neighbor! '' She smiled a smile that made his stomach twist. To him happiness was just a lie, he never felt happy, when he had his small mad rants, he was just insane at the moment. '' Well hello, and goodbye. '' He closed the door and started to walk towards his small gallery. She knocked on the door and the redhead opened it once more '' What? ''

'' Well, I just wondered if I could come in for a cup of coffee?'' she asked shyly and in his mind the male sighed '' She just wants a cup of coffee? Seems like it. Well, we don't have coffee! We have tea? Oh fuck. '' he spoke '' Well, I don't have coffee, but I have tea? '' The woman walked inside his apartment and smiled '' that would be great thank you! ''

The woman sat down in the sofa and looked around in the apartment, it was really empty but had all it needed. There was one sofa, a plasma television standing on some kind of brick with a ps3 connected to the television. The living room and the kitchen was not separated, it was in the same room and she could see the young adult looking for cups in everything from shelves to the fridge and all over the place. She could hear whispers but she wasn't quite sure what he said. The walls were decorated with what seemed to be an endless amount of drawings and paintings. The man suddenly returned and he looked for somewhere to place the cups, he looked around and looked kind of confused. Then suddenly he ran towards a small hallway and came back with a small coffee table. He placed it in front of the couch and sat as far away from the women as possible.

'' Soo…. I see you like art? '' She said softly trying ease the tension between them.

'' Art? It's not just art little miss, it's heart and soul poured into those colors and lines, it's not just something simple as art. '' he was offended and thought to himself '' This woman doesn't understand at all what my work is about. Well, you messes up the most common thing to do when meeting new people, being nice? Oh shut up. ''

''Okay… she said uncomfortably and looked at the person in front of her, he looked normal, but what went on inside his head? '' So you draw for a living? '' He nodded and gave a forced smile '' Indeed I do miss, it's my passion and profession. ''

As he took a hold of his mug he noticed something warm rolling down his palm and down his forearm. He sighed he forgot to clean and close his wound '' Excuse me miss, I have to go to the bathroom for a while. The female sat on the couch and looked around, after a while she got on her feet and looked at one of the paintings. It was a painting of Steve holding a gun to his temple. The background was crimson red with small openings of white in the background. The was a black color formed as drops at different locations in the painting, it was small but she could see them if he concentrated. Under the picture was written: Close To Freedom. A chill went up her spine, it was frightening, it was so beautiful and detailed that it scared her. She continued to look at the pictures, they were all about death, and he was always in some way involved. Sometimes he was just someone in the background, but he was always there.

The auburn woman got impatient and went the same way Steve had gone some minutes ago. She heard whispers inside a room '' If I add some more paint right here this should turn out beautiful. You know it won't Steve. Stop being such a mood kill Steve, I'm on the roll! Not really. Oh shut up freak.'' The female opened the door and was surprised to see the man sitting there all alone she smiled '' I remember I never told you my name, I'm Claire Redfield. '' '' Steve, and that's all you need to know really Miss. '' She frowned at his rude response. '' So what are you drawing? '' He laid the brush on a small table next to me. '' isn't it obvious? I'm drawing evil itself. '' The woman was puzzled '' But I see angels and a happy man, how is that evil?''

He sighed and talked to himself inside his head once more '' As I said, she has no clue about my work! She looks innocent Steve, why would she look at the creations of a mad man? Cause I'm a genius! '' he got out of his chair and turned off the light. In the start the whole room was dark but then the picture started to shine, and it had changed dramatically. The happy human was now covering his head in fright, and the angels had become four men in armor. One was dressed in pure white and held an axe. The second was wearing red armor and he was the tallest and bulkiest, he carried a large claymore. Then the third one was had black armor, he was the skinniest of them all and looked ghastly, he carried a small dagger. The last one didn't wear armor, it had a cloak and a scythe in his right hand, the cloak was pale and she couldn't see a face or anything at all. The human kneeling was crying, and the first man held his axe in the air, ready to strike him. Claire got sick, this was terrifying for her.

'' Do you like it miss? '' Steve asked with a wicked grin '' I really think I got the personality of the four horsemen in this painting. It's the small details that makes the picture, look into the man's eyes, tell me what you see. '' She stuttered '' Heh… I'd rather not '' She hit the light switch and the pleasant drawing came back. '' Want to finish that tea? '' He took down the newly drawn drawing/painting and the woman gave him an idea. '' Tea, that's just genius! Why didn't we figure it out before? I don't know, you never told me you asshole. It's not normal though….. AND THAT'S WHY IT'S SO GENIUS STUPID! ''

He ran towards the kitchen for the second time that day, Claire stood there shocked, what just happened? After a while Steve came back with a tray of tea, she could count around 9 cups filled with different tastes. He took some paint and poured different colors in different cups of tea. He waited for some minutes, just staring at the cups, he used a spoon and tasted all of them, he got a wicked grin '' Miss, you're a genius! No she isn't. She is I tell you she is! '' then Steve took the tray and threw it at the canvas. Claire looked at it, it looked like a mess, but Steve gasped '' It's beautiful, the colors blend in each other so perfectly, it amazing! Pfh, seen better. Oh shut up! '' Claire was confused, more than she'd ever been in her life, the scene was so, awkward to her. This, man, was very special.

'' Lets finish our tea now, I can clean this later. '' He smiled at his new masterpiece and went to the living room again and she follow close behind. He sat down and stared at the television and frowned '' God I really have to watch a movie soon. Yeah it's been a long time. I know right, The Shining is a classic. Does she agree? '' Steve looked at her with a questioning look. '' Eehhhh, haven't seen it really. '' He frowned '' Why miss? '' '' Not into those movies really. '' He shook his head and sighed. Then there was silence, a long silence, it was only disturbed when one of them took a sip of their own cup of tea.

Suddenly Claire pointed at a picture on the wall '' When did you paint that? '' Steve looked at it '' It's a picture of a teenage boy who has run away from home, after been beaten half to death by his stepfather. The dark streets is supposed to be a mirror of the pain in his heart while the rain is his tears filling it. The setting is really in his heart, he feels alone, dark and he's crying. He hadn't run away, but deep in his heart he knows he wants to. If I remember correctly I painted that picture when I was 14. '' Claire looked at it for a while longer, the teens hair looked like Steve's hair. It looked like him. She continued to look at the different selection of paintings in his house. '' These were my first paintings and drawings. I won't sell them or show them to anyone on the internet. Maybe you should? No I should…. ''Claire looked at him again, he was talking to himself once more, it was weird. '' But anyways the visit is over miss. '' he got up and took a hold of her arm and dragged her towards his door, he gently pushed her outside and smiled '' Have a nice day miss! ''

She stared at the door for a minute and whispered '' Well that was, weird. ''

An: Not planning to work even further with this, since I can't really continue with longer stories over a long period, maybe I will maybe I won't, we will have to see :)


End file.
